


The Smell of Salt Water

by Phemiyc (Waterboi)



Series: Of Deities, Humans, and Twelve Apostles [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Human Trafficking, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Non-Sexual Slavery, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sharing a Bed, Synesthesia, Torture, Unreliable Narrator, romantic asexuality, why
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 16:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19337917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waterboi/pseuds/Phemiyc
Summary: 15-year-old Mira Williams lives in a mansion by Maine's seaside. Every day, she goes down to the ocean shores and breathes in the rich smell of salt.  She lives too good of a life to know how great she has it.David Anderson can't remember how old he is. He's never had a birthday party before. In fact, he's never even had a friend. All David knows is the feeling of cold shackles around his wrists and the harsh sting of his owner's words.A string of fate will bring these two people to the seaside, and change their lives forever.The question is: for better or for worse?





	1. A Quick Word of Caution to This Tale

Ok. If you're expecting a happy story, go read something else. This story, although it is written by a two-hundred-and-thirty-four-year-old overlord, is not for those who will be bothered by themes of abuse and human trafficking.  

If you are one of those people, just... for your own sake, read something else. I'm just looking out for you. If you're going to stick through this book, be prepared for month-long hiatuses and lots of cringe! 

 

 


	2. Chapter One, Side A - Mira

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our rather angsty protagonist is introduced.

Ocean wind sweeps through your short black locks. You breathe out a sigh of relaxation and allow yourself a moment of letting your guard down. But within seconds, the reality of the world comes back, and you tense up once more. You hate it when people walk behind you and you're always on alert, even when you're alone. It's just become a constant.

_Whatever. I'm fine being like this, and can you PLEASE stop narrating in a second-person perspective. The reader isn't me, so stop doing that._

If that's what you want. Not like I care about your feelings anyway, but you'll just shut down like you always do when you don't get your way.

_Thank you._

You're not welcome. I apologize for that interruption, dear reader, Mira was just being a bitch. Yes, I just said 'bitch.' Kill me now.

_I heard that._

Yeah... I don't care. I'm not your friend, I'm your narrator. Anyway, continuing on with our story.

Mira went down to the seaside every day during the summer and fall. The atmosphere there was just so relaxing. She always went down alone no matter the day, and would politely refuse- Wait, scratch that. She would rudely say no to anyone who dared ask to go with her.

_Can you please stop hating on me? I can hear you even with my headphones on full blast, and it's embarrassing to listen to._

No thank you, I'll do what I want.

_Whatever, I'm going inside._

Okay. Mira got up from the boulder she was sitting on, and went inside.


	3. Chapter One, Side B - David

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this is going to contain some violence. You have been warned.

The door opens, blinding you almost instantly. A man you have come to despise walks into the room with a sly grin on his face. "David, today's your lucky day." God, how you hate that voice. You just look at the ground, not even bothering to acknowledge THAT man. You can't say anything anyway, even if you wanted to. "Don't look so glum. Maybe you can finally work off that debt you parents owed me. It'll take all your life, of course."

_Um.... Can you please not use second-person perspective? It might make the reader uncomfortable..._

Of course I can. Continuing on with the story...

Jesus Christ, even I hate this guy as much as David does. To add insult to injury, David already KNOWS about being bought. Oops, I shouldn't have said that.   
  


"I bet you wished you parents loved you. Maybe then you- Oh, am I making you upset?" David's tears had betrayed him. SHIT, THIS GUY CAN FUCKING DIE IN A HOLE FOR ALL I CARE! WHAT'S HIS NAME AGAIN? Oh yeah. Anthony Nelson, the world's biggest jerk. 

"Well, am I?" Anthony cupped David's face in his hand and turned the slave up to face him."I asked you a question!" The light touch on David's chin turned into a rough grip around his neck.

The blonde nodded meekly. "Sorry, didn't quite catch that. Am I making you upset?" He nodded again. "Not going to give me a straightforward answer?" Anthony took a knife out of his pocket. "Then I'll just have to get it out of you." He pinned David to a wall, holding him by the throat. David thrashed violently, trying to avoid his inevitable punishment.

Anthony dragged the knife down the blonde's torso, making a gash that ran right down the middle of his chest and went out the side of his right hip. He screamed in agony. "Answer me!" "You're making me upset..." It came out as nothing more than a whisper between David's sobbing. "I still can't hear you!" More cuts were made along David's arms. "YOU'RE MAKING ME UPSET!"

"Good to know. And can you tell me why that is? Why are my words hurting your feelings?"

"Because... I-I'm weak..."

"And stupid."

"And s-stupid..."

"And you're a coward."

"A-And I'm a coward..." 

"And you'll never amount to anything but a slave."

"And I'll never amount to anything...

but a slave."


	4. Chapter Two, Side A - Mira

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our two main characters first meet.

Mira rolled her eyes so hard the retinal cord almost snapped. It appeared that tonight, like many nights, her parents were going to host another one of their stupid-ass parties.

_What's with the attitude?_

Mira, sweetie. ALL of your parents' 'parties' are complete and utter bullshit. You gotta agree with me on this one.

_I never said I didn't._

Also. I have business to attend to, so do you mind if I switch to a first-person perspective for a couple of chapters? It won't affect you in anyway, you just won't be able to hear me.

_Ok, I'm cool with that._

I go to my room, and yeet open my fucking closet with the might of several Greek gods. I'm attempting to find a suitable dress for that lame-ass party tonight, nothing too flashy. Nothing too fancy, either. The door opens with a thud.

"Who-" I start. I've never seen this kid before in my life. I've taken to learning the names of all of my parents' servants and whatnot, but I have no clue who this person is. He has somewhat flyaway blond hair, the most vivid blue eyes, and- wait, WHAT?! Did I just say- No.get a grip.

"Ah- I'm- I'm sorry! I tripped and-" He bows his head slightly in apology. Fuck, now he's scared of me. Cha cha REAL smooth.

"Hey, it's okay." I put my hands up in a surrendering manner. I walk over to the boy. "I don't think we've met. I'm Mira. You are...?"

"D-David." His breath shakes just a little. "Alright, good to know." I nod. "Uh- Uh- Your mot- Mrs. Williams would like to speak to you. She's in the master bedroom." I take a deep breath. David flinches and throws his hands up defensively. I raise my eyebrow. "Are you okay?" I ask. He opens his eyes. "Y-Yes, I'm fine..."   
  


"You didn't do anything wrong, I'll have you know. My parents are just sacks of shit." I walk out of my room. Oh boy, was this going to suck some SERIOUS dick.


	5. Chapter Two, Side B - Cathrine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick glimpse into the life of the Narrator of this tale, Cathrine Jones.

Now that it's your side of the tape, you can use whatever perspective you damn please! You smile as you wave your hand over your crystal orb, disabling it. That was right near fucking perfect. Mira met David, got the first glimpses of David's horrible PTSD, goes to see her bitch of a mother, it's perfect. All of it.

Back to work, now. You open your journal. Anthony Nelson. Why does that name sound so familiar? You feel like you've written it down somewhere, you just know it. It has to be here some-

You find it.

And holy SHIT.

_"I can hardly believe it. How a child with a past like his could ascend to the rank of a god, despite not even reaching what humans consider adulthood. I feel like it won't last for long, however. It never does. Anthony Nelson will just make another tiny mistake, like all the other former Narrators did. This rules are too strict, too demanding of conformity. I know we're forbidden to write, let alone speak of these things. It's been one thousand years since the revolt. But even so, the others refuse to open their eyes..."_

Wow. You can't. HE USED TO BE A NARRATOR! And now he's off, torturing people... well. You take a moment to let this sink in. Then it hits you. Like a shitload of bricks.

If Anthony used to be a Narrator...

How did he get into one of your stories?


	6. Chapter Three, Side A - Mira

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting with Mira's mother, a breakup, and a gleam of light in Mira's otherwise black heart.   
> (Wow, that last bit is edgy.)

**Prepare yourselves.  Holy hell I don't know what I'm doing with my life.**

"Mira, sweetie, I trust you know about the gathering tonight?" My mother clapped her hands together.  "Yes, I do. What of it?" I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "There will be many influentials taking part in the event." 

_So? 'Influentials' are the only people you two invite. Fucking FACT CHECK._

"I'd like you to perform one of your piano arrangements." 

_Wait, what. No. Absolutely not._

"I don't think-" 

"Mira."  

_Ugh. Looks like I'm not even getting an option._

"I have been working on one..." I want to slap this bitch so hard right now it hurts. Yeah, I have a piece I've been working on, the downside is she's not going to like it very much.  Whatever, she asked for it. 

"Good. Perform it tonight. You should start getting ready now." I leave before she can say anything else. 

* * *

My parents forced me to take piano lessons when I was about eight or nine. After several eternities of practice, I've started making my own arrangements and my parents, being their normal bitchy selves, make me perform at their fucking dinner parties. It sucks.  But hey, there's no helping it. 

My phone dings.  I take it out of my hoodie pocket, and it's a text from one of the assholes from my school. 

Mark P. began chatting with Mira W. at 4:34 P.M EST. 

MP: hey 

MW: Is there something you want

MP: so i heard your parents are having one of their parties 

MW: And this concerns you why

MP: just wondering if you wanted to sneak out of your house and y'know

MP: hook up 

Oh no. Please, Peterson, PLEASE don't.

MP: ill use protection if you dont want kids

MW: ... 

MP: something wrong baby 

_'Baby?' Jesus, I was your 'baby' about five minutes ago. Sorry._

MW: Go fuck yourself. 

MW: We're done. 

Mira W. had blocked Mark P. at 4:43 P.M EST. 

"Why... all the time?! Why do people have to keep reminding me?!" You facepalm a little too hard. 

"U-Um... Is something wrong, Miss?" My bedroom door opens. It's that David kid from before. Shit, how loud was I? 

"No, I'm fine." I don't know WHAT divine influence made me say this, but: 

"You can come in, if you'd like a break. My parents aren't exactly humane with how they treat others."   

"Are- Are you sure you're ok with that? I'm not exactly-" 

"I'm pretty damn sure." I motion to the a chair beside my bed.   
  


"Okay..."   

 

 

 


	7. Chapter Three, Side B - David

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David questions Mira's motives.

I just can't figure out Mira. Why is she so nice to me? What does she want? 

... 

What if she's just faking it? If so, why would she fake it? She sounded so sincere. The soft, dark blue that filled my vision every time she spoke was so comforting. It couldn't have been forced. I've never heard someone's color change.   

But when she played the piano in the bo... banquet hall (that's what it's called... right?)? I've never been more at ease in my life.  I could only focus on the beautiful velvet green that flashed in my eyes with every note. It reminded me so much of my mother's singing, I almost cried a little.  

And now, laying on my bed, I just realize. 

Mira's color is- no-  _was-_  the same as my mother's. The navy blue. The  _same_  shade, same tone, everything about the colors of her voice- 

I stop myself from taking my train of thought any further. I don't want to remind myself. It's too painful. I just want to sleep. I close my eyes. 

Even as I close my eyes, 

The blue stays there, slowly becoming a sickening black and red. 


	8. Chapter Four, Side A - Cathrine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You, the reader, have a not-so-enjoyable conversation with Cathrine.

****Here we go. Another night, another one of David's horrible PTSD-induced dreams. Gods, do you hate narrating these. You decide to be nice to the reader and not give any examples of such dreams, for the sake of everyone's mental stability.

Oh boy. Poor, poor David. You feel so bad for the kid.  You mean, sure, it WAS your idea in the first place, but why? And now all anyone can do is hope Mira's psychology classes can do some good for her. Or not.

But of course, seeing as you are a fantastic host (not really), you decide to allow the reader to wander through the backstories of your dearest (yeah, right) protagonists, Mira Williams and David Anderson. Why not?

It can't hurt anyone too much. Besides, we don't really have reason to dislike our antagonist, right? If the reader hated Anthony before, you can't wait to see how they react to THIS one. You walk over to your shelf and grab one of the many books.

"This is David's story." You proclaim to the reader. "Everything there is to know is right in this book. Feel free to go through it." 

Being careful not to hit your horns on anything as you walk through your living room, you hand the book to the reader.

"Be careful with it. If I find a single page missing or torn, I will break your knees." 

You sit down and grin as they read the pages aloud.

_"Character Name: David Anderson_

_Date of Birth: October 23, 2001. (Age 15)_

_Family: Lorelai Anderson (Mother, deceased)"_

Oh, this is going to be to fun to watch.

_"Luke Anderson (Father, deceased), Mira Williams, (S-"_

"Yeah, Please skip that part."

_"Status: Alive... that's good."_

What were they expecting?

_"Relationships-"_

"No. For the love of everything, don't read that." 

_"Why the rest blank?"_

"You'll find out soon enough."

_"What-"_

"Oh, would you look at the time! David's about to wake up, I advise that you leave. You're in for a treat!"

You sigh and flop down on your couch after the reader leaves.

"Mira, I hope you know what you're doing..."

 

 


	9. Chapter Four, Side B - Mira

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Probably the sweetest thing I've ever crafted in the Fiery Forges of Google Docs.

Okay, Mira. I've decided I don't give a fuck what you think. I am going to be using second person perspective from now on. 

 _Fuck you._  

Maybe later. 

You're walking through the halls of your house, listening to the sound of the crashing ocean waves outside the house. You wonder what color that kid hears them as. 

_"I can hear colors. It's kind of weird to explain. Like, when I hear a person talk or hear a certain sound, a wave of color that I associate with that sound floods my vision."_

_"What color is my voice?"_

_"It's like a dark blue. I think the name of it is-"_

Your thoughts are cut off my someone gasping for air. See, your house was large enough to house sla-  **servants** were what your parents had asked you to refer to them as- in their own rooms, although they were rather cramped.

You follow the noise. It's David.  Dammit, how can his voice sound so cute even when he's in pain!? Why did you say that?! Ugh, get it together! 

You quietly open the door.

"A-Ah!" he jumps up from his bed as you open the door.  His breathing is shallow and frantic, as if he's having difficulty breathing. He's probably having a panic attack. Maybe from something PTSD-related? David seemed to flinch at sudden movements, which makes sense. Damn, psychology is the only thing you know how to do right.  

"David?" You know you shouldn't try to go any closer. At this point he's clearly having a panic attack. He drops to his knees. 

"David. Can you hear me?" You've never thought that any of the therapy skills you've learned would have any use in real life. "I'm not going to hurt you. Try to focus on my- try to focus on the colors of my voice." Holy fuck. You absolute genius. 

David looks up at you when you say that. His breaths still come out choppy. You extend a hand and he takes it.  The very second he gets up he throws his arms around you. You tense up almost instantly. 

"M-Ms. Mira..." 

"Just call me Mira for now." You try to keep your cool. You hate human contact, but this... it almost feels normal. His touch is light and soft, you feel like you can trust him. For now, you let your guard down. 

He starts... crying. No, David starts to  **SOB**  into your shoulder. You awkwardly put your arms around him, rubbing circles into his back. His skin is so soft, even through the fabric of his pajama shirt. 

Mustering every ounce of the therapist in you, you whisper softly, "Do you want to talk about it?"  He shakes his head no. "Alright, if you want to talk at anytime, just tell me, okay?" He nods in response.  "How about we go to the kitchen and make some soup and tea? That's always helped me when I try to sleep." He nods again.  

"C'mon." You take his hand and take him to the kitchen. He follows you and you have to check behind you every two seconds  to make sure he doesn't trip over his own two feet. He just had a panic attack, for Christ's sake.  You wouldn't be surprised if he DID trip.  

Once in the kitchen, you ask David to sit down. Grabbing a can of soup, a pan, and a gallon of milk you turn on the stove. You open the can, pour the soup and some milk into the pan. After about five minutes, you take the pan off the stove and pour it into a bowl. It's chicken noodle, one of your favorites.  

You make the tea. "We can take it back to my room if you want. Just try not to spill." It appears that all he has the energy for is nodding.  

Back in your bedroom, the two of you sit on your bed,  you both just talk about constellations and stars. It's nice. David's eyes look so much more full of life. You smile softly. You look up at the skylight above your bed.   There's not so much as a cloud in the sky, and you feel... at peace. You look toward David. He's about to fall asleep. Good, you think to yourself. He leans on your shoulder. You wait for his breathing to even out before you put your arm around him. He's so warm. 

You fall asleep to the soft rise and fall of David's chest. 


End file.
